Straight Roommate Face Fucks Me

After Alex caught me stealing his underwear and letting me keep them from the last post, he started saying that it was so hilarious how I had a "crush" on him and how I couldn't help but get flustered.

It gave him some kind of pleasure. He knew that walking around naked made me horny, he could see it on my face. So that's exactly what he did whenever he was home. Maybe he was a nudist and I just opened the floodgates. I don't know.

He started the teasing by walking around naked after showering. A towel slung over his broad shoulders. His dick hanged at maybe 5" soft. It was more beautiful than I had imagined. His bush was untrimmed like his chest and abdomen hair. His dick was cut and pretty thick for being flaccid. I counted myself lucky to see him nude.

When he was naked, I'd avoid eye contact (while compulsively stealing glances at his body). I'd blush. I'd clam up. And his huge chest and arms, his big hairy ass, I got it all on full display. Even when he was fully clothed (when he was heading out of the apartment mostly), all I could think about was his long dick hanging from his bush.

One day, when I was watching tv in the living room, he really went at it with the teasing. He was grabbing his package and shaking it from the opposite side of the couch.

I couldn't not be turned on. I only hoped that my bulge, or my attempt at hiding it, wasn't visible.

Honestly, a part of me was sad that this was the most attention I had gotten in a while. And I was experiencing a lot of sexual dissatisfaction, so I did take the teasing personally.

"Earth to Ed. You can touch it if you want. Will that stop you from being sad?" he said. Regrettably, my ears perked up. And he noticed. "That shook you out of it. Go ahead, enjoy the real thing." He leaned back, sprawling his huge body over his half of the couch.

My mouth dried up and I felt my heart in my throat. "Aren't you straight?" I asked.

"Yeah. And?"

That was good enough for me.

His body was still somewhat wet from the shower he took. His skin glistened in the low light coming from the kitchen. I reached out to touch his dick. It was soft and warm. It felt like the first time I ever touched one. I began stroking it and I felt him get hard in my hands.

"I didn't say to do all that," he said.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, my hand still pumping him.

"No. Keep going."

So I did. His dick was expanding rapidly in my hand to 7.5"-8". I reached my other hand over and cupped his big hairless balls. I didn't dare try to jerk off myself or make eye contact in case that would've scared him away. Instead I kept going.

"Just like that, faggot," he said. I was taken aback. "You like stroking that big dick, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, daddy."

His dick flexed in my hand. After a few minutes of stroking, without telling me, he moaned loudly erupted maybe 5 ropes of thick cum on my hands.

I milked the last few drops, squeezing his head. I then did something that shocked even me: I locked my eyes on his and licked the cum off of my hands. The surprise on his face was priceless. It tasted more potent than the cum from his underwear and was warm. I felt a bit of precum shoot out of my dick hidden beneath my pants.

I gave him a few seconds to compose himself. "How was it?" I asked.

"Somehow I feel more like a man," he said.

"You definitely taste like a man."

If only I knew how true I'd find that statement to be.

-----

Nothing had happened for a few weeks after I jerked him off. I left my door open and spent more time in the living room, but the opportunity never presented itself. I incessantly reassured myself that I had only liked him, I didn't need him, but I don't think it helped with simmering down my crush.

One day, Alex entered the living room and went through his bag, muttering to himself. "Ah. Ed, look at what I got," he said. He held up a small black container with a vibrant label. "Indica. You like indica, right?"

"Yeah, depending on the vibe," I said.

"Is it the vibe right now?" he asked.

"I think it can be," I replied. He put me in charge of the music and we foraged for snacks for later. Rolling the weed, listening to music, and chatting about horror movies. Doing nothing together... I don't know. I felt like I had a real friend.

After Alex rolled up the joints, he lit one and took the first hit. He passed it to me. I inhaled, feeling the hot smoke burn my throat. I coughed a bit and we kept the conversation going. It wasn't long before the room was smoky and we were smiling too much. He was sprawled on the couch again, this time fully clothed. He forgot his little nudity joke, I thought to myself as I stared at his body. I laid back too, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. And then he was asking me something.

"What?"

"I asked when did you know you were gay."

"Oh. Umm, maybe when I was around seven. I mean I think I always knew, I just didn't have a word for it... until kids started calling me that."

"Oh," he said.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said. He took a moment. "Were you ever afraid of it?"

"I've actually found that giving into it--leaning into being gay--helps."

"How do you lean into it?"

"There's all sorts of ways. The best is obviously sex."

"Right," he said.

We sat in the tense silence. Was I posturing? I didn't know and because of the high, I didn't want to put effort into finding out.

"I was honestly more interested in why you're asking than actually answering," I said.

"I was just curious is all." We smoked for a while, eventually taking our last puffs. He put the end down on the ashtray. I got more comfortable. Then, Alex got up, walked closer to me and sat down. He extended his arm behind my shoulders. "I'm just getting comfortable," he said.

I laid back again, feeling the presence of his big arm pushing down on the couch. The haze had me floating back and forth. I leaned into the nook of his arm.

"Is your arm good like that?" I asked.

"Yeah." I felt him looking down at me. I looked up at him. Our faces were close enough that I felt his exhale. "You know, your hands felt really good last time," he said.

"Did you want to try that again?" I asked, breathless.

I started to lean in to kiss.

"Not really."

Instead he grabbed the back of my head and slowly pushed me down to his crotch. I was disappointed, but I quickly found myself rubbing my face against the fabric of his black jeans.

I felt his already hard dick through his clothes. He unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, revealing his boxers. The outline of his huge dick made my mouth water.

I put my head into his crotch, this time angling myself so that I could smell the sweat and musk from his balls. I could hardly wait. I raised his underwear up from his thigh to reveal his hairless balls. "Can I put them in my mouth, sir?"

"Yeah," he said.

I licked them and then immediately sucked them into my mouth. He made little grunts while I swirled them around. They were cool and big. I sucked the sweat off of them, letting them pop in and out of my mouth over and over.

He sat up and pushed his underwear down to his ankles. Looking at his straight erect dick, was like looking at a statue, a piece of art.

"You're gonna be a good faggot, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Say, 'yes daddy.'"

"Yes, daddy," I said.

"Yes, daddy, what?"

"Yes, daddy, I'll be a good faggot."

"There you go. Blow me," he said. He took out his phone and the sound of his straight porn I'm so familiar with from listening to him jerk off started playing.

I inched forward. I put my nose to his slit and smelled as deeply as I could.

"You like that, faggot?"

I hummed a reply and kept inhaling. I eventually opened my mouth and licked the underside of his big head. I licked all around it and then took as much of his shaft as I could while wetting it all over, progressively taking more and more of him. He was huge; I felt his dick physically push open up the walls of my throat.

I wasn't going too fast, yet, bobbing up and down. But as I was trying to let my throat relax around his dick, he grabbed my hair and pushed my head all the way down to the base. When I reached his pubes and it was as deep as I could go, it felt like a musical resolution. Like his dick in my throat was the way things should be. He let out a deep moan, and I would've moaned with him if I could. Instead, my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

I gagged on his dick but he didn't let me go. I gagged again, and this time I started to tap his leg to let him know that I couldn't stay down any longer. He didn't let go and I started to push against him with my hands. Panic started building in my chest. Finally, I felt his hand come off my head and I raised my head, only to be met with a hard slap.

"You get up when I say to get up. Understand, faggot?"

"Yes, daddy, I understand," I said between gasps. Tears were falling down my face.

"Good, get back down," he commanded.

I deep throated him again. I stayed down, he rested his hands gently on my head. I knew that he was going to take them off when it was time to let me get up. There was pressure building, a mix of panic and the need to breathe. But his hands rested there, and he waited, and waited. I tapped him.

"No, not yet," he replied. I realized that my breathing wasn't up to me at that moment. He controlled it. And I let go of any resistance I had left, melting deeper than I thought was possible. I stuck my tongue out and tried to lap at his balls. "Good, faggot," he said. I could hear his smile. He let me go, but this time I stayed down and gagged against his dick before getting up. All I wanted to be a good faggot. He stood up from the couch, his dick near my face, and grabbed my head with both of his hands. "No teeth," he said.

I simply nodded. He positioned my head in front of his dick and thrusted into my open mouth. He quickly gained speed and fucked my throat like it was a toy. I couldn't keep track of his thrusts, I just focused on covering my teeth with my lips. He moaned that I was a good faggot and kept up the relentless pace. I tried grabbing his legs to steady myself but he flung my hands away, like I was dirty. He pushed my head back and forth, the sound of my spit and my throat being pounded filled the room.

Something about this position felt more violent. He would go all the way and hold me there for a second and thrust in my throat. I gagged consistently, saliva dripped down my chest, but I powered through.

"Yeah, good boy," he said. "That's a good boy."

I was nearing my limit; it was the most brutal face fucking of my life. But then he pulled out, I gasped for air, and he pulled my hair back. He jerked off for a second and then I felt it. Thick, warm ropes covering my face. We both moaned.

I felt like a proud slut. There was cum on my forehead, my eye, and my cheeks. I did my job well, and I was rewarded. His breathing slowed down and he was still holding on to my hair.

"Sorry," he said, letting go.

"It's okay," I said.

"Are you going to jerk off?" he asked.

"No, I'm okay. That was a lot."

"You just wanted to be used, didn't you?" I blushed and kept my head down. "I'll go get some paper towels," he said with a chuckle. He walked to the kitchen and yelled back, "we should record it next time, so you can jerk off later."

"Next time?" I asked.

"Yeah, that was the best blowjob I've ever had. There's going to be a next time."

With that, I got off my knees and stood up. Not able to fully process what he said or what just happened.

All I knew was that I would do it again, and that I felt like I had to give him more next time.